hite Rabbit,--rose from the bar to take the orders of her guest,
and know what he desired to have for the refreshment of his party,--an
attention which she did not evince either to the Schoolmaster or the
Skeleton, two fearful ruffians, who made even the Chourineur tremble.

One of the men with the villainous aspect, whom we have before described
as being very pale, hiding his left hand, and continually pulling his
cap over his brows, leaned towards the ogress, who was carefully wiping
the table where Rodolph had taken his seat, and said to her, in a hoarse
tone, "Hasn't the Gros-Boiteux been here to-day?"

"No," said Mother Ponisse.

"Nor yesterday?"

"Yes, he came yesterday."

"Was Calebasse with him,--the daughter of Martial, who was guillotined?
You know whom I mean,--the Martials of the Ile de Ravageur?"

"What! do you take me for a spy, with your questions? Do you think I
watch my customers?" said the ogress, in a brutal tone.

"I have an appointment to-night with the Gros-Boiteux and the
Schoolmaster," replied the fellow; "we have some business together."

"That's your affair,--a set of ruffians, as you are, altogether."

"Ruffians!" said the man, much incensed; "it is such ruffians you get
your living by."

"Will you hold your jaw?" said the Amazon, with a threatening gesture,
and lifting, as she spoke, the pitcher she held in her hand.

The man resumed his place, grumbling as he did so.

"The Gros-Boiteux has, perhaps, stayed to give that young fellow
Germain, who lives in the Rue du Temple, his gruel," said he, to his
companion.

"What, do they mean to _do_ for him?"

"No, not quite, but to make him more careful in future. It appears he
has 'blown the gaff' in the job at Nantes, so Bras Rouge declares."

"Why, that is Gros-Boiteux's affair; he has only just left prison, and
has his hands full already."

Fleur-de-Marie had followed the Chourineur into the tavern of the
ogress, and he, responding to a nod given to him by the young scamp with
the jaded aspect, said, "Ah, Barbillon! what, pulling away at the old
stuff?"

"Yes; I would rather fast, and go barefoot any day, than be without my
drops for my throttle, and the weed for my pipe," said the rapscallion,
in a thick, low, hoarse voice, without moving from his seat, and puffing
out volumes of tobacco-smoke.

"Good evening, Fleur-de-Marie," said the ogress, looking with a prying
eye on the clothes of the poor girl,--clothes which she had